Meant To Be Ch. 01

Now that I was here, he had invited us both to dinner on our first night in the city. Gwen had offered to bow out so I could be alone with him, but I insisted she join us. Obviously Nick wasn't thinking of it as a date, and I didn't want to give the impression that I did. I wished I could convince my insides of this - my stomach was doing somersaults and there was a nervous flutter in my chest.

Gwen leaned against the doorway of the bathroom as I was fixing my hair and crossed her arms as she looked me over.

"No," she said decisively.

"What?"

I looked down at my black pants and button-down blouse, then inspected Gwen's outfit. She was wearing a flowing skirt that ended just below her knees and a fitted tank top. She and I had similar curvy figures, but she was much more toned. Her long auburn hair was tied up in a messy knot. She looked, as usual, effortlessly pretty.

"What's wrong?" I asked as she continued to study my clothes.

"Cass, just - no," she said, shaking her head fondly. "Hang on."

She disappeared and returned with a bright blue wrap dress and strappy sandals. I viewed it skeptically.

"Gwen -" I began.

"Yes," she interrupted. "It's too hot to wear that," she said, gesturing at me. "And this will make your eyes stand out. He won't be able to resist you."

"Gwen," I said with a sigh. "He doesn't see me that way. Please don't - I don't want to embarrass myself in front of him."

"Okay, I'm sorry for teasing you." She looked sheepish. "But there's still no reason for you not to look great. And it is too hot for what you're wearing."

I twisted my mouth, thinking. "All right," I agreed. I laughed when her eyes lit up.

I had just slipped on the sandals when I heard her buzz Nick up, cheerily giving him our apartment number over the intercom. I walked into the living room as she opened the door and watched him step in with a smile. I was still trying to steady my breathing and the sight of him did not help. He was wearing dark trousers and a deep red button-down shirt, its cuffs rolled up his forearms. He likely could have worn a burlap sack and been handsome, but even in this understated outfit he looked dashing. I slowed as they introduced themselves, attempting to relax my features.

"Cassandra," he said warmly. "You look wonderful."

I smiled as we stepped closer to each other. He took my hands and kissed each cheek.

"Thanks," I said. "You look very nice," I added.

I was glad to hear my voice wasn't shaking. My arms, on the other hand, were trembling and I clasped my hands together behind my back. Over his shoulder I caught a glimpse of Gwen's large grin. She gave me a thumbs-up with both hands and I smothered a nervous laugh.

"Uh, it was really nice of you to take us out for dinner," I said awkwardly.

"My pleasure," he said, still smiling.

He turned to face Gwen, who quickly cleared her expression. I smiled to myself in admiration. Gwen didn't have much more experience with men than I did, but unlike me, she didn't let it bother her. In general, she didn't waste energy worrying about what people thought of her.

"Would you like the tour?" Gwen asked.

She gestured around the large room that was living room, kitchen, dining room, and study. We all chuckled.

"The bonus is you can take the tour by just standing in one spot," I said.

Nick laughed and placed a hand on my arm. I tried not to shiver.

"It's lovely," he said politely as we picked up our purses.

"I booked a table at Odeon," Nick said in the elevator. "We can walk from here."

Nick offered us each an arm once we were outside, but the crowds didn't allow for us to walk three abreast and Gwen fell back under the guise of adjusting her shoe. I gave her a slight eye roll but couldn't help grinning. We didn't speak much on the way; I was just grateful I didn't stumble or trip as we walked. At the restaurant, conversation came easily, for which I was grateful. Nick asked Gwen questions about her graduate program for her MFA. I asked Nick about his job in finance, realizing it hadn't occurred to me to do so previously.

"Ah," he said, waving a hand. "It's not thrilling to hear about. But it gives me the opportunity to travel and live in different places."

"So you only plan to stay in New York temporarily?" Gwen asked.

"I have no idea," Nick said with an easy smile. "My only plan is to see what happens."

I grinned at his relaxed attitude, wondering if it was something that came with age or if he had always been easygoing about his career path. Gwen and I both felt the pressure of figuring out our lives now that we had finished college.

"What are you planning to study in graduate school, Cassandra?" Nick asked me.

"I think library science," I told him, immediately regretting that I added the 'I think' at the beginning of my reply.

Nick's eyes brightened. "My sister got that degree here in the states," he said.

"Oh, wow, what a coincidence," Gwen commented.

"Does she still live here?" I asked.

He nodded. "In Chicago. Though she's recently married and I believe wants to move back to London before she starts having babies."

"Do you miss London?" I asked curiously.

"Yes and no," he admitted. "I'd probably miss it more if I didn't expect to live there again at some point. Besides, it's easy to get back for visits," he added with a shrug.

We began talking about England and our varied experiences there - Gwen had been on the same London term trip as I had, which was when we'd become friends. Before I knew it dinner was over and we were walking back to our apartment. Nick led us a different way home, wanting us to see other parts of the neighborhood. He walked us to our door, where Gwen thanked him again for dinner and quickly excused herself, claiming she was exhausted from moving. I invited him in for a drink and was surprised when he accepted. We sat near each other on the couch, chatting about New York and the West Village as well as his neighborhood on the Upper West Side. When he finished his wine and leaned forward slightly, I could tell he was getting ready to leave and I sat up straighter, thanking him again for dinner.

"It was my pleasure," he told me, giving me that winning smile. "I hope we can do it again soon."

He stood and I followed suit to walk him to the door.

"I'd really like that," I said, hoping I didn't sound desperate.

I reached for the door but stopped when he turned to face me.

"Would you like to take in a play sometime? This weekend's the last chance for Shakespeare in the Park, if you're interested."

I felt the smile break out on my face. "That would be great," I said enthusiastically.

He grinned and told me he'd call me to make plans. He kissed me on both cheeks again before leaving. On the way to my room, Gwen popped her head out of her door and looked at me expectantly. I made a face at her and she laughed.

---

Nick and I spent almost the entire day together that Saturday. We had lunch before the play, then strolled through the park, stopping at a cafe where we talked for hours. We wandered around a bookstore and on the way back to my apartment, he asked if I felt like dinner. Of course I said yes.

We began getting together a few times a week - either for dinner or drinks, or to see a play or exhibit at one of the museums. On the weekends we'd browse bookstores or the library or just explore different neighborhoods and parks, walking and talking, stopping for food or coffee when the mood struck us.

I still found him unnervingly sexy, but I was becoming more comfortable with him. That's not to say I didn't have many moments of being completely flustered when he'd compliment me or say something so charming that it was difficult not to read too much into his words. There were times I caught myself just watching him when he wasn't looking. I would study his face or his hands, or listen while he spoke to a waiter or made small talk with a stranger, entranced by his voice and his easy charm. But I hoped, at least, that I wasn't acting like a schoolgirl with an obvious crush.

Gwen continued to tease me about him, refusing to believe me when I said he didn't see me that way. I knew it was true, but it didn't stop me from hoping. He kissed my cheeks with each greeting and parting, and every time my heart would race. Whenever he would tuck my hand into his arm as we walked, or place his hand on my back as we waited in lines, the blood would rush to my head, making me almost dizzy. I knew logically that none of this contact meant anything to him. Despite telling myself this, I found myself looking for signs that he might be interested only to immediately talk myself out of it.

On one occasion we were at a bar waiting for our dinner table to become available and a drunken customer made a lewd remark about me. I didn't hear it, but Nick did, and it was the only time I'd ever seen him enraged. He told the man off efficiently without making a scene, then put his arm around me to lead me out of the restaurant. His reaction was somewhat possessive, more protective than I would expect a friend to be. I explained it away in my head as him being gentlemanly, but it was simultaneously thrilling and confusing.

I had become close with two of my co-workers, Ian and Maitri, and between them and Gwen, I had an active social life, but Nick was the one I spent most of my time with. He and I still exchanged the occasional email, but on days we didn't see each other, we mostly communicated by phone or text until it was rare that a day would go by without speaking. I had resigned myself to accepting that this would be the extent of our friendship, that he would never see me in a romantic way.

One Sunday afternoon after we'd seen a Kandinsky exhibit at the Guggenheim, we got caught in a rainstorm in the park. Thoroughly unprepared, we each pulled our light jackets over our heads and looked at each other. The rain was quickly accompanied by thunder and lightning.

"My flat isn't far," Nick said, speaking loudly to be heard over the downpour.

I nodded and followed him at a quick pace through the park. Stepping off the curb to cross the street, Nick encountered a puddle and cursed. I looked down to see his pant leg soaked to the knee. I giggled as I looked up at him. His eyes narrowed.

"Think it's funny, is it?" he teased, stomping into the puddle with his other foot and splashing me.

I squealed and jumped, then kicked some water at him. He laughed, suddenly throwing his jacket off his head. He looked up, letting his face get soaked, then took a step toward me. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him, rivulets of water cascading down his face and neck, tantalizingly drenching his shirt. I felt my eyes widen and my face get red. Nick leaned over and shook his head, splattering me with the water flying off his hair. I wiped my face, which was pointless.

"You're in for it now, mister," I warned.

I was just about to kick some more water his way when he grabbed my hand, laughing.

"Right," he said with a grin. "Come on."

We ran across the street and he led me up one block to his building. We spilled into the lobby, laughing hysterically. Pushing the wet strands of hair from my face, I tried to pat myself dry with the inside of my jacket, quickly realizing it was futile. Nick put a hand on my back and led me to the elevator, still chuckling. By the time we got to his door, we had left a telltale trail of water and muddy shoe prints behind us.

"I hope they don't send you the cleaning bill," I remarked as he unlocked the door.

Nick glanced down the hall then looked back at me speculatively.

"We should run up and down the hall," he said decisively. "Throw them off our trail."

I giggled. His head jerked a little and I noticed his eyes traveling over my face.

"What is it?" I nervously tried to fix my hair.

He shook his head and looked a little embarrassed, opening the door and gesturing me inside. I hovered near the door, not wanting to mess up his floor. Nick took my jacket and hung it up for me.

"Leave your shoes and socks here," he told me. "I'll get you some dry clothes."

Kicking off his shoes, he disappeared down the hall, leaving me to try to slow my heart down. He's getting me clothes, I thought, blushing. I removed my boots and socks, looking around the apartment. It was spacious, with tall ceilings and an entire wall of windows. The furniture was simple and classic, the room sparsely decorated but without feeling cold or sterile. Nick returned, now wearing a pair of cargo pants and t-shirt, his hair still damp. I had to tear my gaze away from the shirt stretched taut across his chest and noticed his arms were full of clothes.

"Is there going to be a costume change at intermission or something?" I teased, pointing at the pile of clothes he carried.

Nick gave me a surprised laugh. "I wasn't sure what would fit - I think everything will be swimming on you regardless." He held out a towel. "The loo's right there," he said, pointing.

I held the bundle of clothes gingerly, trying not to drip on them. The bathroom was spacious for a powder room, sleek-looking with silvery-grey tile and glass shelves. I picked through the clothes, chuckling at how many he'd brought me. There were some comfortable-looking flannel pajama pants that I knew would be way too long, so I decided on boxers and a t-shirt. Pleased to see he'd included a bathrobe, I wrapped the towel around my head and peeled off my clothes. I was drying my body when there was a knock at the door and I jumped.

"Uh, yes?" I said weakly.

"I can put your clothes in the dryer when you come out," Nick said on the other side of the door.

"Oh, thanks."

I did the best I could with my mess of hair, tying it in a bun. Inspecting my reflection, I washed off my smeared makeup and leaned into the mirror. At least my skin is clear. I slipped the robe on over my clothes and left the bathroom.

Nick was in the kitchen pouring us some tea. He turned and stopped short at the sight of me. I watched his eyes travel the length of my body and straightened my shoulders. After a short pause, he noticed my wet clothes in my hands and took them from me.

"Cuppa?" he asked when he returned to the kitchen, holding a cup out to me.

"Thanks." I wrapped my hands around the warm cup.

We sipped our tea in silence until a buzzer sounded and I gave a small jump. Nick shot me an apologetic smile and went into a room off the kitchen, returning with my knee-high socks. I gasped in delight as I took them. They were toasty warm. I set my cup down and sat on the floor to put them on. I heard Nick chuckle and glanced up.

"You look adorable," he said, grinning.

I blushed, realizing how childish I must look, sitting on the floor in boxers and socks. He reached out a hand to help me up and I impulsively squeezed his fingers. There was a pause while our eyes met, my hand still loosely in his, before he spoke.

"It might be a while before your clothes are dry...should we order in some dinner?"

I looked around his kitchen. Like the other rooms I'd seen it was sleek and uncluttered.

"Do you have any food here? I could make us something," I offered.

His eyebrows jumped. "No, that's okay -"

"I'd like to," I told him. "You always insist on paying for everything."

"Well." He shrugged awkwardly. "But -"

I watched his struggle, amused. I had never seen him look uncomfortable before. I set down my cup again and started looking through his cupboards before checking the fridge.

"I don't usually keep much in the house," he said unnecessarily.

"Is pasta okay?" I asked, holding up a box of penne.

He looked somewhat dumbfounded and I smirked.

"Where do you keep your spices?" I continued, looking around again.

He pointed to the drawer next to the stove, and then indicated a drawer on the other side of the kitchen when I asked about cooking utensils. I frowned.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

I rested a hand on the inside of the spice drawer.

"Well - it's just that right next to the stove might not be the best place to store spices. If this drawer gets any heat when the oven's on it could ruin them."

He looked at me blankly. "Oh." Then his eyes crinkled as he grinned. "What else am I doing wrong?"

My face flushed. "Sorry," I said.

He looked amused. "I'm serious, I want to know. Not that I do much cooking, clearly."

I giggled. "Well, the cooking tools would probably make more sense in this drawer anyway - close to the stove and this counter where it would make sense to prep food - it would be easier to grab than moving across the kitchen."

Giving me an admiring look, he began emptying the spices onto the counter. I chuckled and found a pot to boil water. He was a good assistant, readily handing me anything I asked for as I cooked. He spent the rest of the time rearranging his cabinets when I suggested something that might work better. When he complimented my skills I explained that my last roommate was a chef and had taught me almost everything I knew. He opened a bottle of wine and we drank half of it while I cooked, sharing stories of our meager college meals and various cooking disasters.

Telling myself I needed to call my old roommate to thank her for going to culinary school, I presented Nick with our dinner: penne pasta in a light sauce of butter and herbs tossed with vegetables, sprinkled with Feta cheese. Nick was staring at the meal in amazement.

"Cassandra," he said softly. "This looks delicious."

"Dig in," I said, sitting down.

"Did I really have all of this?" he asked, looking a little stunned. "Are you sure you didn't sneak some of this in?" he added teasingly.

I laughed. "You have my clothes - where would I have hidden it?"

My face flushed as I thought about him handling my clothes. Fortunately he was still focused on the food. He gave a small sigh after taking his first bite.

"Marvelous," he told me.

Picking up his glass, he raised it in a slight toast in my direction. I gave him a pleased smile and looked down at my plate. After dinner we went into the living room, where he had started a fire. He had a large sectional sofa facing the fireplace and the flat-screen TV that hung over it, but he led me to a small loveseat that faced the wall of windows. I noticed a drafting table to the side and found myself drawn to it. It was strewn with paper, most of them either sketches of the skyline or the park. There was one of a dog in mid-air, catching a Frisbee in its mouth. I ran my finger along the dog's back, almost able to feel its energy humming off the page.

"Nick," I said in astonishment before reluctantly tearing my eyes from the sketch.

He had been watching me and met my eyes with some discomfort.

"How is it you ended up working with money?" I asked, glancing back at the sketches.

He laughed in surprise. "Well, I enjoy having it, mainly. I don't have an artist's temperament or talent to make a living of it."

I looked at him curiously before turning back to the table. I didn't know much about art, but I knew what I liked. And these spoke to me.

"I don't think you're right about that," I said vehemently.

"Thank you." He looked pleased.

He sat on the loveseat and I joined him. We watched the rain come down over the city, the flickering light of the fire and our silhouettes reflecting back at us in the glass. We were silent, looking at the view and drinking our wine. I felt warm and cozy, thinking about how difficult it was going to be to get up when it was time to leave.

Nick's arm was across the back of the sofa and brushed against my hair. I glanced at him instinctively and found him staring at me. His gaze faltered slightly when our eyes met but they came back to mine quickly. I blinked, staring at the rich brown eyes focused on me. Most of the evening had felt so comfortable that I had temporarily forgotten how attracted to him I was. But one second of eye contact and my body was like a lightning rod, absorbing all of his electricity straight to my core. My throat went dry and I moistened my lips. I watched his eyes flicker to my mouth briefly before returning to mine.